


First and Last

by Measured



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Loss of Virginity, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he could travel through time, his fifteen year-old self would high-five him for living the dream. Not only was he a studly rich guy who could keep his ma in the fancy dresses and house she belonged in, far from the projects he'd been raised, he had a girlfriend. A real, live girl who he had gone on dates with, kissed, and who was on the other side of the bed, taking off her heels. And not just any girl, either. <i>Miss freaking Pauling.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	First and Last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RAXip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAXip/gifts).



> Fairly fluffy vanilla PWP, because reasons. For (and betaed by) Multiversecafe.

If he could travel through time, his fifteen year-old self would high-five him for living the dream. Not only was he a studly rich guy who could keep his ma in the fancy dresses and house she belonged in, far from the projects he'd been raised, he had a girlfriend. A real, live girl who he had gone on dates with, kissed, and who was on the other side of the bed, taking off her heels. And not just any girl, either. _Miss freaking Pauling._ She was like Lois Lane with a mix of Wonder Woman and every hot librarian pin up ever.

She even decorated in purple, from the bedspread to the pillows, which had ruffles. He squeezed one. There was a faint scent of her there. He held it to his chest and smelled. Man, he'd wanted to bury his face in her neck for _years_ and now, he was allowed to. Sort of, not on active duty or as much as he liked, but he got to touch a girl. _He got to touch Miss Pauling_!

There was a mark of lipstick at his neck where she'd kissed him at the door, and he rubbed at it, like it was his good luck charm, his badge of honor, his touchstone all in one. She left kiss marks all over him these days. He always felt a little disappointed when his shirts came back from the wash and the lipstick stains were gone. Their waxy smell always reminded him of her.

"Are you ready, or are you and the pillow going to start without me?" she said.

He tossed the pillow aside. It landed on the floor, near the wall beneath a picture of fruit. He was never much of an art person.

"Oh, I am so ready, if I were any more ready I'd—"

His mouth had gone on before his head could catch up again. He'd gone and looked at her and noticed the swell of her breasts as she undid her bra, and it was like botching a jump and hitting a wall. His thoughts just stopped. Logic, common sense, hell, that just jumped out the window. 

He was losing it when she was fully clothed, but take the clothes off and his brain just went on a vacation down south.

Her glasses had fallen down her nose as she worked his zipper down and began to push down his pants. The headboard he was leaning against was digging into his back, but he couldn't bring himself to move or take his eyes off her.

"Aren't you going to take your shirt off for me?" she said teasingly.

"What–I mean, yeah, yeah, totally–Stay for the show, Miss Pauling—"

He tangled up his shirt and got caught up in the sleeves he was pulling so hard. _Fuck,_ that wasn't the smoothest move he'd ever made. On the second try, he pulled hard enough that the shirt ripped in two. Never underestimate the power of a guy with sex on his mind. Scout pushed off the ripped shirt, smiling like he hadn't mucked it all up.

Sometimes, if you pretended it didn't happen, people wouldn't remember. It was all in the image. Was she impressed? She _had_ to be impressed, right? 

She had her head bent so all he could see was the reflection off her glasses. She slipped her small hands about the base of his cock licked the tip, a soft, quick bit of heat and wetness which sent a shudder through him. It was everything he imagined and more. Warm and soft and making this heat under his skin rise as the world tilted. Everything was her: the curve of her lips, the sound of her breathing.

Her purple lipstick left traces on his dick as she brushed her lips over the side. She sucked on and ran her tongue over a big vein, and he shivered in delight. With each second, she left more little lipstick marks to show she'd been there. Her bun was loose, and he tugged it looser, trying to be gentle enough to not pull her hair. Thick dark black hair fell around her face, and when she lean forward, brushed against his cock. 

"Hey, hey, let me see your face," he said.

She looked up, her thumb pushing down the length of him, as she took him a little deeper in her small mouth. Her expression was questioning; he could see the sleek line of her neck, short waist bent, her small, perky breasts with nipples turned red and hard in the brisk air.

"God, you're so cute, it should be illegal. In fact, I bet in some places, it is. You and me, baby. We'll always be on the run from the law. You wear that dress and those heels, and you'll be in for a felony–a _cuteness felony_ –"

She made a sound in the back of her throat and pulled back, her thumb still tracing circles down over him.

"Don't make me laugh when I've got you in my mouth. Not unless you want to have the most awkward trip to visit Medic, ever."

"I couldn't help myself," he said, and grinned wide. He tried to be suave, but he had to bite his lip not to moan again.

"You really do never shut up," she said.

"Guilty as charged," he said.

"I bet...I can get you to be quiet," she said. There was this sultry edge he didn't usually get to hear, because usually it was miss no nonsense, which was hot too, in a her heel in his back demanding complete obedience way.

She began to take him in her mouth again, deeper this time. Her cheeks slightly flushed as she bobbed her head. She was moaning, the sound in her mouth making vibrations all around him like he'd never felt before. She ran her hands over him, her lips slightly parted as she held on, brushing the tip of his cock against her neck and between her breasts. She paused a moment, and twitched as she pulled up. 

"H-hey, don't hurt yourself—"

She sucked a little harder, effectively shutting him up as she took settled for touching what she couldn't swallow with her hands. He was throbbing, twitching and on the brink. The things he could do with his hands was nothing compared to this. Just the scent of her, the fact that she was near was keeping him so turned on. He came over her chest, a white hot eclipse of pleasure, the world blanking out a moment until there was just her. Her against him, hot skin and thin fingers touching him, holding him.

"I figured you'd like something like that," she said. 

Miss Pauling wiped a bit of come from the corner of her mouth as more dripped down her tits. He was pretty sure they were the cutest tits in the history of all tits, and he had looked at a _lot_ of pin-ups, and everybody knew they only stocked quality. He was probably an expert or something at this rate.

She shifted a bit, her hair falling into her face, sticking to her shoulders. She had lipstick smudged on her teeth, and he couldn't stop smiling at his adorable that was.

"Kiss here," she said, pointing to about her belly. He lowered himself against her. Her skin tasted salty, and he could feel small, fine hairs against his tongue. She squirmed a bit, staring down at his progress. He licked a circle around her belly button. He was pretty sure he'd heard that was what drove girls wild. He kept at it, but she wasn't screaming his name yet. Maybe he had to lick harder.

"...you have no idea what you're doing, do you?"

He paused a second too long. "—What? I mean yeah, of _course_ I know—"

"You don't, right," she said to herself. She pushed hair out of her face, staring at the ceiling. He rested his head against her stomach. For a split second, he wondered if the gig was up and his stay in heaven was over. But, Miss Pauling didn't kick him out of bed. Instead, she ran her hands through his hair.

"Do exactly what I tell you," she said. "Understood?"

"Can do," he said, a little breathlessly. God, he loved it when she got all hot schoolteacher on him. Somehow, authority was like sexy lingerie on her, made even better that she pulled it off in such a small package. She couldn't kiss him without leaning up or forcing him down to her level, but she could still kick his ass to the curb, and make him fall in line with one hard look.

"Kiss here," she said, pointing further down her abdomen. He couldn't reach there with her panties still on, which come to think of it, was probably the point. He smirked up at her as he slipped his fingers inside her purple panties, edged with satin and lace. There was a little bow right in the center, and Scout nipped at as he pushed them down slow. Dark curls bristled at his face, surprising him enough to make Scout pull back. 

One thing he'd never admit, was that he actually hadn't got a clue about what went on _down there_. Not even the dirtiest pin-ups showed him, and while he'd heard jokes about smelling fingers and fish, it never really gave him a good mental image. The world of women's body was his last frontier. He was still pretty sure he was going to knock it out of the park, once he actually figured out what to do.

He ran his thumb down the v-shape of her, rough curls against his palm. 

"You don't smell like fish," he said.

She raised one eyebrow at him. Shit, he said that out loud? He kissed the side of her thigh, trying to distract her. Lips against the folds of skin, black curls to his face as breathed in her musky scent. She spread apart the folds of skin, pointing to a small nub. He teasingly ran his tongue across the fleshy tip, enough to make her tremble, and barely hold back a moan. 

Salty, with a bit of metallic tang, his face was already growing wet, but he liked the feel of how warm and soft she was against him.

He craned his neck so he could watch her at the same time, teasing the nub with his lips, enough to make her tighten her grip in his hair and pull hard enough to hurt. Her chest rose and fell each time, uneven and hot as fuck.

"A little harder— _There._ " He sucked a bit harder, enough to make her shudder, the moan more ragged and intense this time. 

"–Inside," she gasped. 

He started to pull away, but she pushed his head back down.

"No, with—with your fingers—"

 _Oh_. 

Keeping the rhythm of his tongue, he moved his fingers down, until he slipped his index finger down in deep. If he had thought her _mouth_ was soft, there was no comparison to how slick and soft she was. She was wide and wet enough to take three fingers pushed in her.

"Up," she said.

She made a motion, like she was urging him to come meet her across a crowded room. He did the same with his own fingers, taking one or two tries to get it just right. He knew when he'd got it, because she jerked her hips up.

"There—" she said, breaking off in a barely contained moan. "Mmmm—Oh—"

She let her head rest back on the pillow, biting her lower lip. He took that as a challenge, and thrust into her harder with his fingers, each time making her shiver and moan. He had never seen her this undone, hair getting messed up, moaning and flushed and downright gorgeous in such a different way than her usual professional affair.

Obviously, he was just going to have to throw away every single pin-up he owned, because nothing compared to the real thing. The scent and feel of her alone now was enough to give him enough stroke fantasies for the rest of his life.

One long moan broke off and she gasped for breath, her cheeks flushed and her gaze completely unfocused. She took off her glasses, her hair a mess and held them loosely in one hand. She slowly put them on the nightstand, next to her hairbrush. She laid back down, like the exertion had tired her out. Was that normal, or was he just really, really, really awesome? He was guessing it was the latter. Scout had to just lay back in a stunned sort of awe. He'd really done it. He'd made a girl come. He _knew_ his tongue would win the day one of these times. He rested against her stomach, just watching her react for a bit, and enjoying this smug feeling of victory. Nobody could say he wasn't a real man anymore.

And damn if he didn't want to do this every day, bring out that wild undone girl hidden under stockings and a tight bun. 

"Ready for round two?" he said, grinning eagerly at her.

She just nodded, still breathy and a little unfocused. He was already hard again. Slipping into her was a level of intensity which he wasn't prepared for. His nerves were alive and hot and twitching, bringing up the sort of pleasure he couldn't even dream up on his own. She was so warm and soft, inside and out that his mind was reeling. Every movement pushed him a little further, a new realization of her nipples hard against him, her hair brushing against him, a soft little breathy moan at the back of her throat. She tightened around him, leaving him so turned on that he couldn't even make a sound. No moan, no gasp, just a voiceless wonder as she began to roll her hips, drawing him deeper into her. Her nails dug into his back, an edge of pain to the blur of pleasure that was pushing into her over and over. 

She was taking control even then, wrapping her legs about his waist and demanding the sort of pace he wasn't actually sure he could last. His mind was spinning with sensation, softness of every curve and inside her hugging every inch of his cock.

Now was so not the time to choke, but he was losing control, thrusting in too fast. He pulled back, fighting for breath, but she held on tight, grinding against him. 

She looked so, so, so good, that even though he was panting, he kissed her, just to feel those soft lips against him one more time. He was never going to get used to this, never going to get tired of this, of _her_.

He pulled back from the kiss, only to kiss her again, his skin heating up from the core.

"Go on–" she said.

He closed his eyes and stopped trying to fight it. Release was more intense the second time. The pleasure seeped through him all the way, leaving him heated and calmed in a deeper way than he'd felt. He shifted just off her, so he wouldn't crush her. Their legs were still tangled together, and her arms were about him. His arm was falling asleep and he didn't fucking care. He was half lidded, fucking tired and full of this dreamy knowing that this was a peak. If he fucked this up, he was going to regret it for the rest of his life.

Her dark eyes were lowered, resting against him. Each blink tickled against his skin. Whenever he got a thought, he had to just say it, because it would just eat up at him until he told someone. Even in chapel or the middle of school he'd been sent out to get his hide tanned because he couldn't keep quiet.

He abruptly pushed himself up, staring at her as she lay back. He lifted up the blanket just enough to get another look at those fine curves of her. If there'd been a fight in him before, it was knocked out completely.

_Bring on the ball and chain._

"God, just...I ain't never felt like this about anyone, and I ain't never felt like this and I want this. I want it for the rest of my life, I want you every day, and I will punch people in the face to make it happen if I have to," Scout said.

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and ran her fingers through her messed up dark hair. "We've gone on three dates. You can't propose after three dates."

"I'm throwin' my pin-ups away, I don't even care. I'll stop hittin' on other girls. I'll go punch the friggin' moon and fight frickin' armies and bring you flowers every day—"

"It's an after sex thing. Everyone has these moods where they feel like they can conquer the world, but when it's over—"

He cut her off. "No, I felt like this for a long time. Just put it into perspective about what I want. I been after you for _years_. Sure, other girls are hot. _Really hot,_ but—"

Her expression turned sour. Whoops, he'd hit the train straight into fuckupville.

"—but that ain't important. The thing is, I want you. And if I never get to kiss another girl, It's fine as long as I get to kiss you every damn day. I'm happy around you, happier than I know what to do with. You—you're friggin' everythin' I want, perfect and gorgeous and wonderful and I ain't sharin'."

She stroked his face, a slight smile across her face. Her lipstick was smudged to hell and back. He liked her messy as much as he liked her neat. "You act like such a tough guy, but somewhere down there, you're a softie."

"Excuse me, I am an _awesome studly_ softie-only-for-you who is in love with an amazin' girl. Now, are you gonna make me beg? I can totally get on my knees? And....crap, I forgot a ring. Oh well, I'll get to that—Hell, I'll buy you the whole frickin' store—" 

She held up her hand, effectively cutting him off. "Ask me after a year," she said. 

"But–"

She held a finger up. "If you waited this long, you can wait a year. I don't rush into things."

"It ain't a rush for me," he said.

"Then let me catch up. You know how I am. I won't settle for anything which isn't thoroughly planned," she said.

"All right, but it ain't changin' anythin'. I'll just woo you so hardcore great like that you'll forget all the other guys names, because I'm just so frickin' dashin' and crap. Hell, I'll even be sensitive and all that fuckin' stuff," he said.

"Don't tell me you're already picking out the names of our future children," she said.

He grinned, pulling her a little tighter against him. "If we have a girl, we're namin' her after my mother," he said.


End file.
